


We Become Who We Are

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Background Donald/Audrey, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Red exerts a certain amount of influence in the lives of Ressler & Audrey. Explores events through the end of 'Mako Tanida.'</p><p>“There are certain things that became an impossibility when I became what I am,” Red said finally, looking away and focusing his gaze out the window. “Things that I can never enjoy again. I hope you’ll forgive me if I feel a certain amount of vicarious happiness from seeing the two of you resolve your differences.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Become Who We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UrbanAmazon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrbanAmazon/gifts).



> I know your letter was very Ressler focused, but I really fell in love with the idea of watching his love and heartbreak through Red's eyes, and their interactions (and shippiness.) I hope this hits the spot. Happy Yule! :)

Red’s life has been information for a very long time. Things he can use, thinks he can sell. Things to expand his empire or his bank accounts, things to secure his position in the world. It would have been a novice mistake to not keep surveillance on the various teams and agencies that hunted him, on both sides of the law. He had a database full of information on the cats who thought they could chase him. Where they lived, who they worked for, what they purchased, what they ate. Convenient allergies and weaknesses in their social circles.

For the most part, he left them alone. His associates would alert him to any actions that could become a serious concern. For the federales, that didn’t happen often. Working within the bounds of the law was such a disadvantage.

He supposed that was why Brussels impressed him as much as it did. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that the American FBI team was slightly less inept than many of the other suits on his watchlist. They had, after all, succeeded in taking down Tanida, who definitely wasn’t chump change. When the whispers came that they’d actually managed to pin down and work with Anslo Garrik in a sting operation to catch him he found himself pleasantly surprised. Not by Garrick, of course. He’d written off that Neanderthal long ago.

But the FBI team, now… that was interesting.

It felt incredibly satisfying to have the sum total of Donald Ressler’s life at his fingertips. Between the boy’s almost single-minded dedication to his work and his physique - tall, fit, ruggedly Aryan - he was quite the little Captain America. He’d been assigned to Red’s case for quite some time, which either meant persistence or bad luck, but Red was willing to believe the former. Ressler lived modestly, with a steady girlfriend who didn’t appear to mind the wall map of the world that hung in his home office, carefully marked with a myriad of pins in locations where Red had done business over the years, or least allowed them to believe he had.

He decided to keep a slightly closer eye on the agent, if only for interest’s sake. So when his intelligence flagged Ressler’s large purchase at a jewelry store, with a reservation at a French restaurant far above his pay grade, well… Red was already in DC, and he was exceptionally fond of the way that restaurant did their escargot. A little peek couldn’t hurt, could it? Just to see if Ressler was everything he seemed to be.

Arranging for the small table in the corner that discreetly overlooked the young couple was easy enough, and he studied them as he slowly sipped a cup of coffee. Ressler had traded the starched white FBI shirt for a dark blue gray one and matching tie under his navy suit jacket, though he still held himself like an FBI agent, alert and slightly tense. Or perhaps that was nervousness and the anticipation of what was to come.

Ressler’s sweetheart was pretty, all sleek dark hair and big brown doe-eyes. She hung off Ressler’s every word, smiling and laughing. Audrey Bidwell, his data had said. Did she have any idea what was coming? Red watched her for a few minutes and decided she must. While Ressler’s shirt and tie were nothing to write home about, Audrey had certainly pulled out what was probably the most expensive outfit in her closet, and accessorized it perfectly.

She loved him.

Watching them together, it was hard not to remember. Mary had been absolutely radiant when he’d proposed, so long ago. Part of the life he’d turned his back on. Still, Red had never tried to forget it. There was a poignant beauty to the pain of nostalgia and longing that such memories invoked, and for a long moment he let it sink into his bones.

Ressler would propose during or just before the dessert course, he knew. The boy was a traditionalist that way. It was time to make his exit.

Red caught the eye of the waiter. “That couple over there, Captain America and his dark haired girlfriend. He’s going to propose shortly. When he does, send them over a bottle of Dom Pérignon. The year 2000 Rosé would be appropriate, don’t you think? Tell him that it’s compliments of the restaurant. Send me the bill.”

Red glanced back to the restaurant as he slipped into the back seat of his car, just in time to see Ressler go to one knee. Even through the glass that separated them, the young couple’s joy was tangible. Red found himself smiling, and watched for a few moments longer. To make sure his wishes were carried out, he told himself. That part of his life was long past, and he could never hope to regain or replicate it, not when anyone he grew close to became a liability to him. But it was nice to watch. To remember.

***

Red had his choice of several countries and dozens of agencies he could’ve turned himself into. After all, America wasn’t exactly the Titan superpower I’d thought it was. It was easiest to get to Lizzie in America, of course, but he could have demanded her in any country in the world. But Red’s surrender had been carefully orchestrated, every variable examined and weighed.

Surrendering in America meant this team. It meant Ressler. He was still, for the most part, a caricature of everything that amused Reddington about the FBI. Smash first and ask questions later. But he’d still gotten closer to Reddington than any of the other worlds agencies, and Red could recognize the value in that. He’d half expected Ressler to turn down the appointment to the task force, or grow bitter at so many years of his professional life wasted. But from what he could tell, Ressler handled himself a little too graciously. Part of Reddington itched to get the man alone, to try and push his buttons and test his mettle. But he could be patient. He knew the opportunity would come.

He didn’t expect that it would come with Ressler bleeding out in front of him and a terrorist one sheet of bombproof glass away.

“What happened to Audrey Bidwell?”

“She left me.” Through the haze of pain in Ressler’s blue eyes, Red saw loneliness, and the most intense regret. Suddenly Ressler’s walls tumbled down and everything came spilling out. That he’d been too focused on his job, on his obsession with catching Reddington. That he’d lost that sweet, doe-eyed girl with whom he’d shared so much joy the night that Reddington had watched them.

Ressler’s regret for love lost was all too familiar. All Red had intended was to distract him, to keep Ressler’s emotions strong and vivid enough to make the boy fight for life. But as Ressler’s defenses came down he found his own wavering, found himself speaking to the boy with more truth and vulnerability then he’d let himself admit to in a very long time. He’d allowed himself to be vulnerable around Lizzie, of course. But that was expected. He’d never expected anyone else to inspire that in him.

Ressler, again, had surprised him.

It left him far more unsettled than anything else that happened that day. Physical torture had always been far easier to recover from. Finding a new chink in his emotional armor was unsettling.

Even off the grid, it was easy enough to tap his resources for phone call or two. To make sure Ressler had survived. To quietly manipulate the fabric of the world and send Audrey back to him. The boy deserved it, Red told himself. And in the grand scheme of things, it would impress Ressler and buy his gratitude in a way that little else could.

***

Weeks later he watched Ressler approach the window of his car, the blonde man leaning heavily on his cane. “What do you want, Reddington? I’m off the clock right now.”

“Nothing that would cause you to miss your date, don’t worry. Sit down, Donald. We’ll take you there.” The man's name sat familiar on his tongue. Before their time in the box it had been a taunt, to use the agent’s familiar name as if he had earned the right as a longtime friend instead of Ressler’s prey. Then, as he’d watched Ressler’s life slowly slipping away and are him, the unexplainable fondness he felt for the man had become far stronger than any desire to rile him up. Despite Ressler’s wary gaze, Red thought his attitude must’ve changed as well, at least a little. He needed to secure that.

Ressler spoke before he could. “You’re the one that called Audrey, aren’t you?”

Red felt a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth despite himself. “Has Ms. Bidwell made a reappearance in your life? How fortunate for you, Donald. She’s a bit too wholesome for my taste, of course. But I suppose that makes her perfectly suited to you.”

“I know it was you,” Ressler pressed. “She said it was work, but she hasn’t been on my emergency contact list since….” He stopped, lips pursed. “Why are you here, Reddington?”

“Simply to check up on your recovery. It would be a shame if all my hard work had gone to waste, wouldn’t it? And I thought maybe you’d like to take something to your appointment. La Perla has the most amazing house made sausage, but their selection of champagnes leaves something to be desired.” Red leaned in to open the door to the small chiller installed between the front seats of the luxury sedan.

“I’d ask how you knew where I was going, but that would be stupid question.”

“Good. You’re learning.” He passed the bottle to Ressler, watching him carefully as he took it.

For a long moment Ressler’s face was carefully blank. “A 2000 Dom Pérignon Rosé.”

“Sometimes it’s best to stick with the classics when it comes to prestige champagne. The first time I had a bottle of Dom Pérignon was on the Champs-Elysées in Paris with a Bluebell girl. She could pull off the most interesting Marlene Dietrich impersonation.”

Ressler’s eyes narrowed as he spoke, suspicious. “What do you want, Reddington? If you’re looking for some favor - “

“Now really, Donald. Why would I need to arrange some clandestine meeting with you in a car to ask for something when I could just ask your boss outright? I told you, I’m simply here to check on your recovery.”

Ressler stared down at the bottle in his hands. “This is expensive.”

“Consider it hazard pay. I think Ms. Bidwell will appreciate the sentiment, don’t you?”

Ressler nodded slowly, then looked up at him, voice quiet. “Why are you doing this, Reddington?”

Briefly, Red considered telling him the truth - about the coming war, about wanting Ressler on his side. But that wouldn’t work for Donald. And in any case, it wasn’t entirely true.

“There are certain things that became an impossibility when I became what I am,” he said finally, looking away and focusing his gaze out the window. “Things that I can never enjoy again. Things that would become a liability to me if I tried. I regret that our previous dalliances nearly cost you those things as well. I hope you’ll forgive me if I feel a certain amount of vicarious happiness from seeing the two of you resolve your differences.”

Once again the words made him feel strangely vulnerable, and he wondered at the fact that he could speak them so easily to Ressler. But when he looked back, Ressler’s expression was open, blue eyes returning his gaze with a quiet understanding.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Red smiled, and it felt unforced and unbidden.

***

Dealing with Tanida had been easy, if a little shattering. The strength of the reaction that Audrey’s death had evoked in Red was incredibly unsettling, though he tried to tell himself that it was simply because his emotions were already riding high, as they always did leading up to this anniversary.

No matter how long he’d been in the business, killing generally still felt brutal and reprehensible, despite the necessity of it. But killing Tanida felt almost satisfying.

Red dropped the razor-sharp Katana to the concrete floor, stepping back from the blood splatter and waving a hand towards the head. “Wrap that up. Deliver it to Agent Ressler after you’ve dropped me off at the theater. Preferably with a bottle of something very potent.” Then he started back to the car, knowing that Denbe would fulfill his request.

He refused to acknowledge the fact that his hands were shaking.

In retrospect, the timing was perfect. Audrey’s death, Ressler’s loss, was just one more gust of wind in the maelstrom of emotions and memories that overwhelmed him as the music of Tchaikovsky crescendoed around him. The ballet afforded a rare and beautiful moment of catharsis from everything that haunted him - the chance to accept and indulge in everything he’d lost and leave it behind in the theater. This year was different, though. Too much had changed. The ballet was losing its effectiveness.

“Was the performance as you hoped?” Denbe asked afterwards.

No, Red thought, but forced a stiff nod. “Did he accept the package?”

“Unquestioningly.”

Ressler would have to turn it into the FBI, but Red wasn’t concerned. He already had immunity, and Harold would protect Captain America against any repercussions. On the drive back to the hotel he wondered whether or not it would actually give Ressler any sense of satisfaction or closure after all.

The last thing he expected was to find Ressler sitting on the floor against the door to his hotel suite, his clothes rumpled, and obviously very, very drunk. Pain was still raw in his blue eyes as he looked up at him. “Did you know?”

Red stared at him silently for a long moment, the weariness that he felt seeping into his bones. “I’m afraid I couldn’t include a gift receipt with my delivery, Donald, and I have little energy to play cat and mouse tonight.”

Ressler’s lips thinned. “Did you know about Jonica?” He asked again, each word pronounced carefully.

Red let out a long breath. He likely should have realized that his gift would lead Ressler here.

“Do you want me to take him home, boss?” Denbe asked, but Red shook his head.

“Get up off the floor, Donald. This isn’t some teenaged rom-com, if we’re going to commiserate jointly we’re not going to do it in a hotel hallway.”

He stepped over Ressler’s thigh to slip the key card into the lock, but Dembe caught his arm. “Raymond. Are you certain about this?”

“As reasonably as one can be,” Red replied. “Help him up, please. This will be all I require from you tonight.”

Denbe nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself in a way that Red had always valued. He deposited Ressler on the sofa and left.

Red took the time to hang up his coat and take off his hat, crossing the room to the fully stocked bar with a coolness that he didn’t feel. “Scotch?”

“Just water,” Ressler replied, watching him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I had a good idea that Tenshi was likely some government man turned bad, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t hope that your vendetta against Tanida would lead you to whoever it was.” Red squeezed a lemon into Ressler’s glass, then poured himself a healthy amount of Scotch over ice. “I didn’t know it was Jonica. I would’ve taken care of him long ago if I did.” He handed Ressler the glass and set down on the other end of the sofa. “I’m sorry for your loss, Donald. Both of them.”

Ressler gave a soft, broken laugh, taking a long drink, then leaning forward to set the glass down on the coffee table. “I wanted to feel better once justice was served. But I don’t. The whole thing just seems like such a fucking waste.”

Red sipped his Scotch, watching the other man for a long moment. Ressler’s shoulders hunched under the gray T-shirt, his skin still marked from the misadventures of the day. “Why are you here, Donald?”

“I wanted to be angry with you,” Donald muttered, staring down at his hands. “If you hadn’t brought her back to me she’d still be alive. Married to that asshole, instead of dead because of me. But I’m just angry at myself. All you’ve ever done is given me what I wanted. I’m the one that screwed it up, again.”

“I’m sorry,” Red found himself saying, “And I will take the blame for some of this. It was selfish of me to want to see you and Audrey back together. I mistakenly thought that being on the right side of the law would give you immunity to the dangers I face.”

Ressler snorted again. “So I’ll never get close to anyone again.”

“I do hope you’ll reconsider that decision.”

“Why?” Ressler looked up at him. “That bottle of champagne you gave me. It was the same kind Audrey and I had the night I proposed. But you knew that, didn’t you? Why did you ever care about us? Don’t tell me it’s just about living vicariously through me. You plan everything you do far too carefully for that.”

“True." Red felt his lips twist into a bitter smile. "If you must know, Donald, I’ve developed some respect for you. I wanted to see that rewarded, and I realized that you’d be much more malleable if I made some attempts to make up for some of the hardships I’ve caused in your life.”

Ressler returned his gaze steadily. “And it has nothing to do with my resemblance to the other men you’ve taken to bed with you?”

Red felt his lips tighten, and he looked away, tossing back half the glass of Scotch to avoid answering.

“I know a great deal about you, too,” Ressler pressed. “And I’m sure if you knew about Audrey then you know about everyone else I’ve been with. Did you know I went to bed with Jonica after Audrey left me?”

“Is that why you’re here then?” Red’s voice was rougher than he wanted to be, and he cleared his throat before tossing back the rest of the Scotch, setting the glass down on the coffee table with a sharp crack. “I have no shortage of willing bed mates, Donald.”

“That’s not what I’m offering.”

“Offering?” Red moved forward along the couch, sudden and deliberate. He slid his fingers into the mussed gold strands of Ressler’s hair and clenched tight, holding him in place as he leaned closer. “Don’t you know I’m fully capable of taking anything I want?”

“That’s not who you are.” Ressler’s words were soft, but rough, and Red couldn’t help but feel that same strange vulnerability that Ressler had so often unexpectedly evoked in him.

“Don’t be mistaken, Donald. As you said, I plan everything very carefully, and everything I do is completely selfish.”

“Including cutting yourself off from anyone who could be a liability to you?” For someone as drunk as he’d appeared to be, Ressler’s voice was remarkably clear, and Red couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a farce. “I know you better than you think I do, Reddington. Red. I know that no one else you’ve been with could ever hope to understand what you’ve lost. I could never understand what you did it before, how anyone could choose to give up everything you did for… this. But it wasn’t a choice, was it? No more than it was for me. We just… become who we are.”

For a moment Red couldn’t respond, couldn’t understand how easily the man in front of him could make him feel cut open and helpless. He searched Ressler’s expression, trying to find some hint of cruelty or superiority, some reason to feel anger and push him away. But all he could see was his own broken vulnerability reflected back at him.

“So you are more than just a pretty face,” he murmured finally, relaxing his grasp on Ressler’s hair.

Ressler glanced away, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he let out a breath in a soft huff. “You know me better than anyone left alive.”

Sighing, Red wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling Ressler’s unresisting body closer and pressing his cheek to his hair. “This won’t take away the pain that you feel, Donald. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Ressler turned his face to press against Red’s neck, his lips just brushing the skin above his shirt collar. “I know.”

“And it doesn’t make you special to me.”

“I know Lizzie will always come first.” Ressler’s breath teased warm against his skin. “She’s important to me, too.” Then he raised his head to look at him, blue eyes clear. “I wouldn’t trade my time with Audrey for anything. Maybe that’s selfish of me. Maybe it’s worth having a few liabilities, even if things end badly.”

Red tried to laugh, to cling to the threads of his superiority. All that came out was a soundless huff. So he gave in and pressed his lips to Ressler’s upturned ones, losing himself to their unresisting softness.

“We’ll see.”

\- Finish -


End file.
